


Making Memories of Us

by Antares



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 2014 Jack/Daniel Ficathon, First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings, Season/Series 08, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel reads something in the newspaper and Jack has a lot of explaining to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Memories of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/gifts).



> 1\. Many, many thanks to my beta ivorygates who did so much for this story! Thank you!  
> 2\. Written for the jd_ficathon on DW.

It’s Saturday morning, they’re on down time, and Daniel’s having a late breakfast with orange juice, toast, and the ‘Colorado Springs Independent’. He feels very ‘domestic’. He smiles while he reads through the articles about the opening of a new shopping center and the upcoming annual Colorado Springs 4K Open. They should really participate once, he thinks, they’d probably have a good chance of winning, used as they are to running from hostile aliens. 

Suddenly Daniel’s hand with the peanut butter and honey toast stops a few inches from his already open mouth. “What the... ?” he mumbles while he is re-reading the classified that made him interrupt his breakfast. Usually, interpretation of texts is his field of expertise, and he shouldn’t have to read something as simple as this twice, but he wants to be absolutely sure that he gets it right.

For Sale: Northgate/Monument/Tri Lakes Area:  
2 bed, 2 bath, on .25 acre, well equipped kitch., spacious eating area,  
sunny living room, fireplace, back yard wraparound deck,  
2-car garage, professional landscaping. Quiet neighborhood

Well, even if the tiny picture accompanying the ad looks exactly like Jack’s house, there’s the very remote possibility that the architect used his plan for more than one house. But the address leaves no room for doubt – this is Jack’s house! Daniel’s appetite has vanished and he drops his half-eaten toast back on the plate.

Why? Why is Jack selling his house? Why didn’t Jack tell him about it? Why didn’t he tell anyone – because Daniel is sure the rumor mill in the SGC would’ve informed him immediately about such a decision – or asked _him_ why the General was moving. But this time he’s no wiser than anybody else. 

Daniel puts the paper down and stares into the distance. Perhaps this is some sort of elaborate joke? But what for? No, and it doesn’t feel like a joke to him, it feels more like a punch to the gut, like betrayal. Like that horrible sentence Jack said years ago ‘Our friendship doesn’t have much of a foundation’. A sentence that still has the power to hurt Daniel although Jack had explained it, and he understands intellectually that it had been only said in the line of duty. 

But that was five years ago. So much has changed during these last five years and their friendship now has a deep rooted foundation. Daniel’s sure about it. It’s not only that saving-each-other-lives stuff, it’s also all those holidays in the cabin, and the evenings they spend together, the impromptu barbecues like two evenings ago – where Jack didn’t say a single word about selling his house. Daniel’s nibbling on his lower lip. There must be another reason for this strange ad.

He tears the realty listing from the newspaper, folds it three times and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans. He grabs the first sweater he finds, his charcoal one, searches for his car keys, finds them finally in the Mesopotamian ceremonial urn – huh, how did they get there? – and five minutes later he’s on his way to Jack’s house. 

When he has to stop at the first red light he’s nearly convinced himself that there are termites in the timber of Jack’s house, or moles or other annoying creatures invading the yard, so that it’s much wiser to sell the house than rid it of whatever. At the second red light he ponders if Jack has learned through some dark channels that maybe the area was about to be re-zoned. So better sell it until it is still worth something. 

But when he arrives at Jack’s driveway and parks the car, he’s back to his first question: Why hasn’t Jack said anything about hypothetical termites or new construction? At least to him, his presumably best friend? He knocks on the door, and when there is no answer he walks around the house and finds the glass doors to the living room open. He enters and calls, “Jack?” 

Ah, there’s music coming from the kitchen. Daniel crosses the ‘sunny living’ room, takes the three steps to the ‘spacious eating area’ in one and arrives at the ‘well equipped kitchen’. 

Jack’s preparing something to eat that looks like a casserole, while he’s singing slightly off key “ _...the phantom of the opera is dead inside my mind_ ”. Jack’s wearing the yellow shirt he wore when he came to rescue him in Nicaragua and hazy memories of the flight back flash through Daniel’s mind. Daniel doesn’t remember too much about those hours in the air, he was much too tired and filled with pain killers. But he remembers clearly that Jack felt... safe, and for the first time in days Daniel didn’t have to be on alert every second so that neither Bill nor he would get killed. He woke up hours later, drooling on Jack’s shoulder. 

Suddenly Jack seems to notice that someone’s watching him, and he looks up at Daniel who’s standing in the doorframe and smiling a lopsided grin. 

“Butchering poor Andrew Lloyd Webber?” Daniel teases when Jack stops singing. 

“Daniel!” Jack grins. “I was going to call and ask if you’d help me eat my famous O’Neill Shepherd’s Pie. Family recipe,” he adds proudly. “But somehow your intuition brought you here already.” Jack roughs up the mashed potatoes with a fork so that there are peaks that will brown nicely. 

“To tell the truth, it wasn’t intuition that brought me here.” Daniel fumbles the realty listing from his back pocket. “It was this.” He smoothes the paper out, pushes it in Jack’s direction and taps his index finger on the photo of Jack’s house. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, that.” Jack’s eyes dart from the listing to Daniel and back. He takes the baking dish and says, “Let me put this in the oven, then we can talk.” He turns around and carefully places the casserole in the oven, makes a show of selecting the right temperature and meticulously setting the timer clock. 

Each slow, deliberate movement makes it clear that he is stalling for time, and Daniel has a hard time reining in his impatience, his foot tapping a much quicker rhythm than Webber’s music demands. 

Finally Jack seems satisfied. He straightens, pours Daniel a mug of coffee, shoves it into his hands, grabs his own half-empty mug and says, “Let’s go into the living room.” 

Daniel allows to be ushered from the kitchen and chooses a place on the sofa. But instead of taking the place beside him, or sinking down in his favorite chair, Jack stands by the window, looking out into the garden, his back to Daniel. 

“I didn’t plan on you finding out this way,” Jack says after a moment of laden silence. “Why weren’t you reading one of your archaeological journals for breakfast? I wanted to talk to you before...” 

“Jack, the day before yesterday, we had steaks and nearly four uninterrupted hours of Scrabble. You had all the time in the world to talk about this... whole selling your home business,” Daniel interrupts. And the moment he says the words out loud, it hits Daniel with a sharp pang – Jack isn’t only selling a house. He’s selling the house that more than anything feels like ‘home’ to Daniel. He’s never gotten really attached to one of his regularly changing apartments, but here, when his whole life had been turned upside down, everything began with a beer in front of the fireplace, and the feeling of having a place to stay. 

And this house continued to be his anchor when life threw ugly situations at them. Nights on Jack’s sofa, with Jack listening, sometimes even hugging him, were much better than any therapy McKenzie tried from time to time to force upon him. This was his home for weeks when two years ago he returned from that absolutely overrated higher level of enlightenment, because this was the only place his clean-wiped mind recognized and associated with ‘security’ and, yes, ‘home’. Here, he waited with Jack in the last hours before Jack’s brain was consumed by that Ancient face-hugger, and here Jack changed the bandages on the wounds Daniel brought back from Nicaragua. They got drunk together on this sofa when Janet died. So much – shared – history. 

Daniel grits his teeth. How dares Jack to throw all that away? 

Jack finally starts to answer his question. “I...” 

“You better have a damn good reason,” Daniel interrupts and he can’t keep his anger and frustration from his voice. 

Jack turns around. “What?” He raises his eyebrows. “Last time I checked, this was my house to do with as I please. It says ‘Jack O’Neill’ on the title deed.” 

“We’re not talking about title deeds,” Daniel shouts getting up off the sofa. He crosses the room to where Jack’s standing but stops at the fireplace. 

“Yes we are.” 

“No. We are talking about... memories.” Daniel shrugs with a helpless gesture. He feels like he’s on one of their first missions. He’s talking about the past, memories, history – Jack’s only interested in the ‘technical’ aspect. So what’s new? Perhaps he should’ve expected a reaction like that. 

“Memories?” Jack’s contemptuous tone sounds as if that’s something super sweet sticking to your fingers. 

“Yes, memories of this house.” Daniel takes one of the photos which are standing on the mantle-piece in his hand. “Memories like these.” In it, he and Jack are sitting under a tree in Jack’s yard eating spaghetti with tomato sauce from the same plate. They’re both grinning like maniacs into Sam’s camera. 

Now it’s Jack’s turn to shrug. “You can put those wherever you want, even in the quarters on base. It’s the photo, not the house that holds the memory.” He takes a few steps, snatches the photo from Daniel’s hand and puts it back. 

“Fine.” If Jack wants to be extra-clever and pigheaded, Daniel’s powerless against it. “So at least tell me why you’re selling the house? What’s wrong with it, all of a sudden? You found something bigger or smaller? You need to call the exterminator?”

“The exterminator?” Jack gives Daniel the same look Sam gets when she starts explaining string theory or the density of dark energy. 

“No... termites?”

Jack snorts. “No termites.” 

“Okay. Then why are you looking for another house?” 

Jack goes to the sofa and lets himself fall onto it. “I’m,” Jack clears his throat, “uhm... following in Hammond’s footsteps. “

Daniel sits down beside him. “It’s nearly eight months ago that you became... Wait, you’re buying Hammond’s old house?” Why would do Jack do that? 

“No, not his house. His job. I’m thinking about being the next head of Homeworld Security.” Jack is not looking at Daniel when he says it. He’s fiddling with the remote control on the table. 

“That’s in Washington?” Daniel is aware that there’s a tiny question mark at the end of his sentence.

“Exactly.” 

Daniel lets his head sink back against the headrest of the sofa and closes his eyes. Washington. More than a thousand miles away. No more spontaneous invitations to dinner, no more overnight stays, no more afternoons or evenings spent together without advance planning. He’d been angry that Jack would choose a new house without telling him first? Hah! He gives a derisive laugh. Jack decided to move to the other side of the country without as much as a single to word to him! If he hadn’t accidentally stumbled over that listing... 

“When were you going to tell me?” Jack is such an inconsiderate ass. Daniel feels like someone pulled out the rug from under him. But soon that empty feeling dissipates and he’s watching Jack with rising anger. 

Jack runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve tried more than once during the last few days, but obviously...”

“You never said a single word! You didn’t try. You wanted to sit this out. You’re such a coward!” Daniel knows full well that this must be an even greater insult for an Air Force officer than for a civilian. But that’s just fine. Exactly what Jack deserves! He arms himself for Jack’s protests. Jack lied to him by omission and he’ll make Jack admit it. It is cowardice to sit something of this magnitude out and not talk to anybody. 

Jack slumps deeper into the sofa. “Maybe you’re right.” He sighs deeply. 

What? Daniel turns to look sharply into Jack’s direction. Is Jack mocking him? Daniel observes him very thoroughly, searching for the tiniest clues. No, there’s no smirk or derision detectable on Jack’s face. He... he looks tired and a bit resigned. Not like somebody who’s planning a new episode of his life and is looking forward to it with enthusiasm and anticipation. This defenseless acceptance of the insult is so unlike Jack that Daniel gets worried. What’s really behind this? Why’s Jack planning on leaving the SGC? What else happened that he doesn’t know about – yet? 

“Let’s start at the beginning, okay?” Daniel suggests. 

Jack doesn’t answer. 

“Hey.” Daniel pokes Jack until Jack finally looks him into the eyes again. “It’s already decided? Did you confirm you’d to take that job? You know that you’ll very probably hate it. You aren’t too happy about being stuck behind a desk here at the SGC, but at least you’re always in the middle of everything. And somehow you managed to attract a lot of interesting things to the SGC in the last months, like that giant Audrey plant, Ba’al, the virtual reality game Teal’c got caught in, Colonel Vazslov, shooting me…” He waves a hand for all the other things that also happened in the Mountain. “Nothing like that will happen at the Pentagon, because there’s no Stargate there. But there are dozens and dozens of types like Kinsey was, all full of shit and no understanding at all for your… for our situation. Why do you want to work with them on a regular basis?” 

Jack’s face is blank. “That’s what generals do.” 

Daniel snorts. “That’s nonsense and you know it. They won’t send you to Washington if you insist on staying here. You’re much too valuable for them. They won’t force you into a position where you may decide to quit.” Daniel knows that usually the military doesn’t ask but commands, but with Jack it’s different. It pays off that he’s also saved the President’s ass  
from becoming a slave to a megalomaniac Goa’uld multiple times. 

“Who said it wasn’t my idea to inquire about a job in the Pentagon?” Jack asks. 

Raising his eyebrows, Daniel opens his mouth but for two, three seconds he can’t find words and closes his mouth again. He shakes his head, clears his throat and finally stammers, “Y... you did?” 

“No.” 

“Jack!” It’s part indignation, part relief when Daniel punches Jack’s upper arm. But at least Jack’s smiling smugly again and Daniel feels a sense of normality returning. That’s more like Jack, even if it’s at Daniel’s expense. “So why are you suddenly sick of watching our six?” He takes a sip from his nearly cold coffee. 

“I’m not, but in a few weeks there won’t be any of you left. Teal’c’s going to help the Jaffa build a new system of government, and Carter’s going to Area 51 to take the SGC’s R& D there.” 

“Oh.” It seemed a lot of people weren’t informing him about their decisions. 

Jack nods. “Yes, oh. And that leaves you. As everyone in the SGC knows, after the near disaster with Hammond and the _Prometheus_ , you talked my ear off about being on the _Daedalus_ when it leaves for Atlantis, until I couldn’t stand your pouting anymore and said ‘yes’.”

Daniel swallows hard. Oh, no, he has nobody to blame but himself? How could he have been so oblivious that his choice to go to Atlantis might entail such a far-reaching decision on Jack’s part? Suddenly, this makes a whole lot of sense from Jack’s point of view. But there’s a fault in Jack’s reasoning. He doesn’t want to stay on Atlantis forever, only for a few months. Only get a glimpse of that legendary city he had hoped to find for years. Then he’d intended to come back – knowing that Jack was waiting for him. Yeah, right. Suddenly this seems rather short-sighted of him. 

But if going to Atlantis in the first place means losing Jack… “If I don’t go, will you reconsider? Staying at the SGC and… here?” Daniel wants to say ‘in my life’, but he knows that Jack isn’t the Hallmark type. 

“What?” Jack puts a hand on Daniel’s forehead. “Are you feverish?”

“No, I’m not.” 

“But Daniel! You haven’t been talking about anything but Atlantis for weeks!” He drops his hand to Daniel’s shoulder. 

“That’s right.” And Daniel really, really wants to go. “But I’ll stay here if that keeps you in the Springs.” Said out loud it sounds pathetic, but if Daniel has to choose between Atlantis and Jack, he’ll take Jack. He always thought that there would be a grey line, that he could have both, but confronted with an either-or decision, it’s astonishingly easy to choose Jack. 

“Really?” Hearing these words, Jack’s fingers dig a bit deeper into Daniel’s shoulder before he relaxes them. But he doesn’t remove his hand. Instead he turns his body towards Daniel, one leg hitched up on the sofa, cups Daniel’s cheek and gives him a long look.

Daniel recognizes the gesture immediately, in the last years he has replayed it in his head uncounted times. Jack did the same on Klorel’s ship when they both thought that it was good-bye forever. When they couldn’t hope to see the other ever again. 

“No.” He grabs Jack’s wrist. “No, please.” He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but he can’t change it. Since that fatal day when his grand-father had allowed the Child Welfare Services to take him away, he had tried everything to never feel so… dependent again. But with Jack saying good-bye, that feeling is suddenly much too close to the surface again. He isn’t eight anymore, but that only means that he understands much better the loneliness and emptiness that will await him in the next months. He tightens his grip on Jack’s wrist.

“Daniel?” Jack looks slightly confused. “Uhm… I’ve lots of qualities, but I’m not a mind-reader,” he says after a moment. He gently pries Daniel’s cramped fingers loose, but keeps Daniel’s hand in his. “What are we talking about right now?” 

Daniel takes a deep breath. “About you _not_ going to Washington?” He chooses a rather snappish tone to make up for his much too emotional reaction a few moments ago. He tries to pull his hand from Jack’s grip but Jack doesn’t allow it. 

“Okay. And you’re trying to bribe me with not going to Atlantis if I don’t go to Washington, correct?” Jack frowns a little bit, stares at Daniel for a long moment, but then the corners of his mouth goes up, and he looks as if he finally found the last missing word in one of his crossword puzzles. 

“’Bribe’ is a very negative word.” Why doesn’t Jack not let go of his hand? He stares at their joined fingers. Not that he’ll complain, it feels very nice. “I didn’t mean it in the sense of corrupting the behavior of…” 

“If I understand you correctly, that’s what I have to deal with in Washington on a daily basis.” 

Jack’s thumb is now stroking the back of Daniel’s hand. Daniel licks his suddenly dry lips. He feels very light-headed, all he can concentrate on is the soft caress and so he nearly misses Jack’s next question. 

“…offer a bit more to convince me?” 

There’s definitively amusement in Jack’s voice now, and so Daniel finally tears his eyes away from Jack’s fingers and looks up. Yes, Jack is smiling and … obviously waiting for an answer. And crap, he’s missing some very big clues here. What is Jack playing at? 

“Convince you?” he finally asks feeling totally out of his depth. 

Jack sighs and rolls his eyes. “You didn’t get any of my subtle hints during the last weeks, did you?” When Daniel opens his mouth Jack raises one hand and shushes him. “No, I should’ve noticed that you were in archaeologist mode, and there was nothing else on your mind but planning your trip on the _Daedalus_. And me being too subtle for you – well, that’s something unheard of so far. But okay. Time to stop beating around the bush.” Jack nods decisively and moves a bit closer on the sofa until their knees are pressed together and Daniel can feel the heat of Jack’s body even through the layers of their jeans. 

Daniel wants to protest, because there had been more on his mind, like visiting King Harry, flying to Moscow, and saving the world, but Jack leans forward and whispers into his ear, “I’ll show you, and if I’m totally wrong – well, you’ll be far, far away in a few weeks.” 

Daniel is still wondering what Jack wants to show him, when he feels Jack’s lips on his. Dry and warm, and... and ... oh, my god, that’s a kiss, Jack’s kissing him! Obviously, this has something to do with his trip to Atlantis but he’s much too fascinated by Jack’s lips to give it more than a fleeting thought. Jack’s tongue is licking over his lower lip and Daniel groans deeply. Unbelievingly good shudders run up and down his spine and he chases Jack’s tongue with his own. Jack opens his mouth and that’s the moment when he realizes, really realizes, that he’s kissing back. That’s so… so… amazing!

He’s taking his time to explore Jack’s mouth. His hands come up and glide over Jack’s neck, and stroke the short hair there. For a second he’s overwhelmed by what he’s doing but then he feels Jack’s arms pull him closer. Jack’s breath is hot against his ear. He smells like aftershave and the ground beef and onions he prepared for the casserole. Daniel kisses him once more and he tastes like coffee and Jack. 

It’s everything he’d ever wanted but had rationally told himself he couldn’t have. After coming back from Oma-land, there had been short fleeting moments when he’d thought that Jack could feel more for him – a longer than absolutely necessary hug, an undecipherable gaze, a longing in Jack’s eyes – but he’d attributed it to his own wishful thinking. And when Jack had finally had the courage to make at least veiled hints at something more, Daniel had obviously been so obsessed with visiting the city of the Ancients that he hadn’t paid enough attention. Sometimes he could be such a blockhead. 

Jack’s hand cups his cheek again and now Daniel’s quite sure that this isn’t a good-bye but a beginning. A whole wave of happiness spreads like warm sunshine through his body. 

“You okay?” Jack asks when they both have to come up for air. 

“Very.” Daniel laughs softly. “I’m such an idiot if that’s what you wanted to tell me and I kept talking about the Pegasus Galaxy.” 

“No argument on my part.” 

Jack’s smile is a bit smug but it’s also very open and happy so Daniel doesn’t protest. Instead he asks, “Is that how you want me to ‘convince’ you? With... sex? Because I could absolutely do it.” The concept is wonderful and frightening and hot as hell – all at the same time. Jack’s naked skin under his fingers, Jack arching into his touch, Jack's tongue on his dick... vivid, colorful mini-films, like teasers for the main event, are flashing through Daniel’s mind. Atlantis’ image is all of a sudden very pale against such a prospect. 

“Well, after all I’m giving up a promotion to Major General; I’m sure that demands sacrifices on your part,” Jack mumbles between kisses on Daniel’s throat, under his chin, and on the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue between Daniel’s lips again. He’s kissing him with force and determination, devouring, sloppy, and with low needy moans. 

Daniel’s dick responds immediately, and he can feel it hardening against the zipper of his jeans, which are quickly becoming uncomfortably tight. “No sacrifice,” he pants, feeling as if he isn’t able to gulp in enough air for speaking and kissing at the same time. 

“Glad to hear that.” 

Jack’s fingers start unbuttoning Daniel’s shirt from the bottom to the top, and Daniel totally forgets what he wanted to ask Jack about, because Jack’s knuckles brush against the skin on his stomach, moving tantalizingly slowly higher and higher, leaving a trail of hot desire. Only when Jack stops to take care of his own shirt and pulls it over his head, does Daniel have enough brain cells to ask, “You already accepted the promotion?”

“No,” Jack answers from where he’s fighting with his shirt, because he opened only two buttons. 

“But the listing for the house – you wanted me to react?” 

Jack tosses the shirt to the ground. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe I’m an idiot, too. Maybe I had been a bit disappointed with the outcome of the barbecue two nights ago. And it might be possible that calling the realtor had been a slightly too spontaneous over-reaction to your being so absolutely not interested in me.” He grins sheepishly. 

“Oh no! I’m so interested you can’t even begin to imagine.” Daniel lets himself glide into the cushions behind him. “I’m so sorry I was so... inattentive.” He’s pulling on Jack’s left arm with one hand and on Jack’s neck with his other until Jack lands rather unceremoniously on him. “And you’re right, it’s not the house, and it’s not even the photos – although it’s nice to have this type of souvenir. In the end it’s the person who counts.” He kisses Jack’s ear. 

“Nicely put, Mister Linguist.” Jack pushes himself up on his arms and grinds his groin and unmistakable erection against Daniel’s. “And I’m glad you’re interested.” He chuckles and lets Daniel feel how hard he already is. 

“Oh, god, yes. And I... yes, Jack, like that... you know, I could go to Washington with you and work in a museum or teach.” He bursts out in an embarrassed laugh, “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Like a good little ‘fifties’ wife.” 

“Not at all.” Jack stops the movement of his hips. He gives Daniel a calculating look then asks, “Do I have your full attention?” 

“All of it,” Daniel answers and strokes little circles on Jack’s waist. 

Jack clears his throat. “I could go with you to Atlantis.” 

Daniel’s blood is pounding in his ears. “And relieve Major Sheppard as the military leader of the mission?” In a city like Atlantis it would be even more difficult to keep their relationship secret. 

“I thought more along the lines of retiring and starting a career as a civilian. I’m sure the new archaeologist there could use his own personal gene carrier to access all those files you need the gene for.”

Oh my god, Jack had already thought this through! This is isn’t a decision he’s taken in the spur of the moment. He’s already extrapolated what to do if Daniel said ‘yes’. Wonder and gratitude fill Daniel with warmth and excitement. Jack made a plan. A perfect plan for how they could be together. And the best thing is he’ll have both – Jack and Atlantis! “Hell, yes!” He crosses his hand behind Jack’s neck and pulls him closer. “Yes!” 

He’s trailing his hands down Jack’s back, the skin smooth against his palms. New and familiar sensations are coming together, it’s not the first time he’s hugging Jack – but never before in this way. Never before has he touched so much naked skin, felt the beating of Jack’s heart and the breath against his cheek. Never before was he allowed to feel this tingling anticipation for more. More intimacy, more sex and more Jack. 

“You’ll have to cancel your single room on the _Daedalus_ and book a double for us,” Jack says and licks over Daniel’s nipple until Daniel groans. 

It takes Daniel a few moments to concentrate and answer, “There are double rooms, but they have a bunk beds.” 

“Fine with me. We put our luggage on the upper one. Who’s able to have sex on a sofa...”  
He lets the rest of the sentence trail of. 

“We’re really going to do this?” Daniel asks, although he’s convinced that Jack would never tease him with something as important as this only to make a withdrawal in the last second. 

“Doctor Beckett told us in his message from Pegasus, that the fishing grounds there are the best you find in two galaxies.”

“In that case…” That’s answer enough for Daniel. And suddenly he’s also sure that Jack will love this trip to another galaxy, where he’ll have more adventures to look forward to than a job in the Pentagon could ever offer. It sounds so … perfect. Daniel is overflowing with happiness and kisses Jack wherever he can reach. 

Jack’s fumbling one handed with the zipper on his trousers when suddenly there’s a noise coming from the kitchen. 

_Beep..._ _Beep..._ _Beep..._

“Oh, no! That’s dinner, isn’t it? Such a bad timing.” Daniel groans but doesn’t let go of Jack.

“Crap!” Jack groans. “What a mood killer.” 

_Beep..._ _Beep..._ _Beep...._

“Will it stop eventually?” 

“Not before we’ve gone crazy.” Jack disentangles himself slowly from Daniel’s arms and sits up. He’s rubbing his head and sending a rueful glance to Daniel. “We’d better get up.”

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“You want our first time to be with an oven-timer in the background setting the rhythm?”

Daniel gives a long suffering sigh. “No. You’ve got a point there.” He gets up and hands Jack his shirt. “I’m desperate, but not that desperate.” 

“Good.” Jack gives Daniel such a carefree smile that it makes him nearly reverse his decision. 

When Daniel wants to help Jack button up his shirt, Jack simply shoves the shirttail into his jeans. “Come on. We’ll eat to gather our strength...”

“And then?” 

“Then we go to the bedroom, to make hot, dirty, naked memories of us.”

“You’re really a romantic, aren’t you?” Daniel laughs wholeheartedly. 

“You haven’t seen half it,” Jack promises with a leering grin and pushes Daniel into the direction of the kitchen. 

 

\------The End-------

 

©Antares, July-August 2014


End file.
